


Echoes From the Distant Past

by Enonem



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family History, Gen, Insecurity, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 21:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enonem/pseuds/Enonem
Summary: In the first days of his rule, the constant attention affects Aragorn and he wonders how a king should act. He gets a dream to help him.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Echoes From the Distant Past

Many celebrations followed the coming of King Elessar to Minas Tirith. The defeat of the Enemy, the coronation of the King and the King’s own wedding, only weeks after. Far into the night the festivities continued on each occasion. Indeed for some they continued far into the morning, for there were lights and songs in many streets long after the palace had fallen quiet.

The King had sat and walked and greeted and spoken with all the noble bearing of one born to the throne. For indeed he was and long had he awaited this time. Yet in his own heart he knew now the difference between the steps that led to the throne and the throne itself. It would take time for his head to favour the shining crown to the dark hood. In hearing the common people singing thoughtlessly down in the city, he felt the desire to join them.

And chided himself for it.

It seemed to him that those who knew him best were wise to his discomfort and shared it. For Arwen often smiled a secret smile at his side and on occasion Elrond would look at him in wonder across a room, as if he did not know him. Or rather, as if he did know him, but that whom he knew was not Aragorn. Perhaps he was only surprised to see Elessar in Estel.

Some days after his wedding, Aragorn heard in his sleep a sound as of weeping. In his dream he followed it through the corridors of his palace, until he came to the door of the archives. The weeping was louder here.

He entered and saw, standing amidst towering shelves of ancient volumes, a figure holding his face in his hand in bitter grief.

His clothing was rich and of a style unknown to Aragorn. Yet even so, and even with his face half hidden, the figure appeared to him so familiar that he was about to call out the name of Elrond. Before he could speak, the man raised his head and though it was Elrond's face he saw, they were not Elrond's eyes that looked back at him. Proud stood Tar-Minyatur before him, yet burdened were his shoulders. 

Though startled with awe, Aragorn did not bow, but only nodded his head in respect. Elros returned the gesture with a smile of approval through his tears. He held out his hand and Aragorn took it.

They stood now under the clear night sky. All along the unbroken horizon bright stars sank into the sea. Black waves broke at their feet, yet they stood solid on the water. A few steps away from them, emerging from the dark depths, was a construction of white stone. A raised circle with an opening on one side ringed a wide flat surface. Its beauty was marred by a faint stain in the centre, that long passing of waves and rain had not yet fully cleansed.

Aragorn gazed on the sacred peak of the Meneltarma and wept for lost Númenor, spreading deep and wide below him.

"Look," said Elros and pointed at their feet.

Aragorn turned his eyes to the water and it seemed to him as if stars glimmered from the bottom of the sea. But there was colour in that light, of gold and of gems, richly arranged. The tombs of the late Kings of Númenor, drowned in the gold of their pride and fear.

Elros swept his arm and now they stood on grass amid gently sloping hills. Clouds hid the stars in places and a soft breeze swept over them. All was quiet and peaceful. Far ahead in the North was the familiar shape of Amon Sûl.

Elros knelt on the grass and beckoned Aragorn to join him. In his hands he held a small plant of _athelas_. "Remember," he said.

They rose and were again in Minas Tirith, standing by the white tree. Elros looked at the young tree and smiled gently, though his face was still marked with tears. Now truly it might have been Elrond standing there.

The First King embraced him and spoke softly to him. "A long road you have walked, my son. And every step has led you here, to the joy of many. Not all those who wander are lost." He drew back and lifter a finger high. Above it shone bright Eärendil his father.

Aragorn awoke in his bed, not long before the rising of the sun.

Pressed by his dream, he walked out into the night and halted on the same spot in which Elros had spoken to him. Indeed, high in the sky, above the branches of the white tree, the Morning Star was bright.

"_Aiya Eärendil, elenion ancalima._" Aragorn spoke the well known words softly, almost without thinking. Heavy in his mind was still his vision and the gentle admonition.

"Indeed the Silmaril light has been strong of late," answered a familiar voice. Now it really was Elrond who walked towards him.

"Often I sit under that glow and contemplate the past," Elrond continued. "But many would say that a king, especially one newly crowned, ought to have care rather for today and for tomorrow." His tone was light and familiar, yet the cut of his smile was sad and Aragorn knew that many farewells, past and future, lay heavy on Elrond's heart and that he himself was one of them.

He regretted the need for his next words, but he was compelled to speak.

"I saw your brother."

No great outward change came upon Elrond. His eyes drifted to distant days and he was quiet for a time. Though whether he tarried on glad memories or sorrowful, Aragorn could not say.

"Yes," Elrond said at length. "So have many who have borne his crown."

"Many or all?"

"That even I do not know. For though my heart has been open to all those to whom my brother is forefather, not all their hearts have been open to me."

They stood in silence under the night sky. Eventually Aragorn spoke.

"My new house shall need a name."

"That is true."

"Long was my road. Telcontar will be the name of my house."

Bright and mirthful was Elrond's smile as he lay a hand on his shoulder. "That is a fine name." He nodded at him and walked away, softly singing to himself a song that Aragorn had never heard.


End file.
